The Differences Time Makes
by Audrianna13
Summary: Sirius didn't quite die, Jim Gordon has many secrets of his own, the boy known as 'Harry Potter' died long ago, and the Joker does, in fact, remember the true story of how he got his scars.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, and The Dark Knight belongs to Christopher Nolan/Warner Bros./whoever else owns it.**

The first time the Joker saw Jim Gordon, the green-haired man was too far away for him to be able to make out any distinguishing features. He was standing near the Mayor, up at the podium. The Joker frowned, feeling the niggling sensation he got when confronted with something familiar. Usually it only occurred when something somehow came from his past, which was odd, seeing as just about everyone from before he became the Joker was dead, whether from his own hand or from others'.

He pulled himself away from his thoughts as the rest of the guards, fake and real, were called to attention.

'_I've never killed a mayor before,'_ he mused to himself, all other thoughts forgotten as he focused on this new game.

The second time the Joker saw Jim Gordon was just as he was about to slip his fingers under Batman's mask and see who he _really _was. Gordon pulled him away with a gun to his head and the quiet words, "We got you, you son of a bitch."

He only saw a flash of his face before he was shoved facedown to the ground, but it still seemed familiar, as did the voice.

The green-haired man resisted the urge to start thumping his head against the ground in frustration that he had gotten to see neither the Batman's nor Gordon's face, content with the fact that soon everything would dissolve into chaos. He loved chaos. Order…

His face twisted. Order. That brought up memories. He hated those memories. He hated the word 'Order.'

The third time was as he was sitting in a holding cell in the MCU. Gordon came in, looking tired. He conferred quietly with his officers about the green-haired man, but the Joker could hear everything. He had sharp ears, honed by a past of whispers, quiet voices, and danger.

He laughed quietly on the inside as they talked of his knives (oh, how he loved them), his custom clothes (he didn't want to conform to social norms, and if he was going to do something like this, why not go all the way and be completely original? Besides, all the money he had inherited could be put to use buying them), and how he had no apparent past (he had one, but he thought of it as little as possible, and it wasn't like _these_ idiots would have been able to find it anyway). Then the Mayor came in and announced that Gordon was the new Commissioner. Interesting.

Still, that _voice_. It was so familiar. He _needed _to know who it was that Gordon reminded him of, so that he could kill the Commissioner – Gordon was driving him mad, and he crushed any inadvertent reminders of his past.

To his frustration, despite everything he had been through in his life and the contacts he was wearing, his eyesight was still a bit too blurry to be able to make out fine details at a certain distance. He could _see _Gordon quite well, but he couldn't check for the exact details needed to be able to compare it to the person the new Commissioner sounded and looked slightly like.

The fourth time the Joker saw Gordon was after he had left and come back. The green-haired man was sitting in the half-dark interrogation room where they had left him shortly after calling the Commissioner.

"Evening, _Commissioner_," he drawled out, eyes quickly taking in the man now that he was close enough for the Joker to be able to see in complete detail.

"Harvey Dent never made it home," Gordon said quietly, sitting down in front of him.

"Of course not," the Joker said, smiling slightly. The grin slid down his face as suddenly the pieces all clicked together. It was the way that the light fell on the Commissioner's face that clinched it. His face looked slightly gaunter in the half-light, his eyes darker. Despite the moustache, shorter hair, and glasses, the Joker could see the familiar face underneath. And now that he thought about it, Gordon had a very slight British accent in his speech.

This wasn't possible. He had to test him. "You wanna know how I got these scars?" he asked, leaning forward and staring straight into Gordon's eyes.

Gordon's expression tightened and his eyes narrowed in anger as he stood. "I don't have time for your games," he said, unlocking the Joker's cuffs and starting to head towards the door.

"Your cousin Bellatrix is a real bitch, you know that, Padfoot?" the Joker called.

Gordon froze. Very slowly, he turned around.

"How do you know about her?" he breathed. "And that name?"

The Joker smiled and spread his hands. "I'm hurt you don't recognize me," he said. "Then again, the years change everyone. It's no surprise, honestly – I'm so different from how I _used _to be, I don't know who _would _recognize me." He let that sink in for a moment, and then said conversationally, "I didn't know that you thought Lily was a bitch, though. Merlin, Snuffles, I hope you never said that to her face!"

Sirius had always been a smart man. Otherwise, how would he have been able to become an Animagus at age fifteen, without any adult supervision to help? The Joker watched as Gordon processed the information dump, and then connected the last two sentences with what he had said several hours ago. He paled suddenly and almost swayed where he stood.

"Harry?" he whispered, eyes wide.

The Joker laughed loudly. "I haven't been called that in years!" he said, ignoring for the moment the bitter memories surfacing. "I'm so disappointed you didn't recognize your own _godson_, Padfoot!"

Gordon flinched, and the former Boy-Who-Lived imagined he could hear everyone on the other side of the glass they were examining them through take in a breath of disbelief. His everlasting grin widened.

The Commissioner sat back down at the table, peering into the Joker's emerald eyes as though trying to see the truth of what he was saying. For a brief moment, his gaze flickered up to the Joker's forehead, but he had always covered that section particularly well, and was certain Gordon wouldn't be able to see anything there.

"What happened to you?" Gordon asked.

"Life, and time, and war," the Joker said. "And Bellatrix," he added. "She got all pissy when I killed her master and was so sad over my friends and comrades having died. 'The Gryffindor Golden Boy shouldn't be so saaaaad...' she said. 'Let's put a _smile _on that face!' Of course, I killed her right after," he said, shrugging unconcernedly.

"_He_'s dead, then?" Gordon questioned after a brief moment of disgust in the utter nonchalant way his godson had talked about having his face cut open.

"Oh yes," the Joker said gleefully. "He's very much dead. I've danced on his grave." His eyes twinkled merrily. "Of course," he continued with a slight downward turn of the lips, "I didn't kill him until he had already murdered all the fighters, including me. Essentially, we lost the final battle, even if we did technically win the war."

If Gordon was confused, he didn't show it. The Joker hadn't explained anything, really. "What happened to you? What made you like…this?"

The Joker leaned forward. "You're telling me you hadn't been driven mad with grief when you finally caught up to Peter? I've been driven mad, but it stuck around." He sighed suddenly, leaning back some. "Go rescue your new Saviour, Sirius. I am growing tired of this game, this city. The world's no _fun _anymore…there's no good competition. Everyone has _morals_, and I'm not ready to deal with too many goody two-shoes. She's at 250 52nd Street, and he's at Avenue X and Cicero."

"She?" Gordon asked, already standing. His gaze flickered to something behind the Joker.

"Rachel Dawes," the Joker shrugged. He made little shooing motions with his hands. "Go on. The clock's ticking, Gordon. By my estimates, you have…ooh, ten minutes, maybe?"

"Shit!" Gordon turned and strode quickly to the door.

With a slam, the Joker's head hit the table, and he lifted it in time to see Batman going with Gordon. He laughed.

Through his laughs, while he was cradling his head and blinking his eyes, he called out, "Don't worry, Sirius! I'll stay here and we can have a _looooong _discussion of what's happened over the past few years!" He cackled loudly.

Despite what he'd said, maybe he would stick around this city for a while longer. At the very least, he'd have to pop back in occasionally to check up on his godfather.

Still laughing weakly, the Joker leaned back in his chair contentedly, eyes bright with merriment, lips and scars curled up in amusement.

* * *

A/N: This hit me with the force of a snowball to the back of the head today as I was attempting to build a snow fort (it snowed a good 12-15 inches here). I was thinking about how I've read a couple of fics where Sirius was the Joker, and one where he was Gordon (because they're both played by Gary Oldman), and then…this idea popped up.

Obviously, this is very AU. The Final Battle at the end of the seventh book went differently. Pretty much everyone at Hogwarts who was fighting died (including the members of the Order of the Phoenix who fought, thus Harry not liking the word 'Order'). Bellatrix stayed alive long enough to take her revenge on Harry after he killed Voldemort. Harry went mad with grief, became the Joker, and left the Wizarding World. He has been blatantly ignoring all the memories from his teens.

As for Sirius, when he passed through the Veil, he was dumped somewhere with amnesia, no wand, and most of his magic gone is what I'm thinking. By the time he's regained all his memories, it's been many, many years. I know that the timeline for this is all wacky. Just pretend a _lot _of years have passed. (By the way, I like the sort-of-not-quite-irony of Gordon being a good, fair cop in a city of bad ones when as Sirius Black he was tossed in prison by bad Aurors/judges).

The Dark Knight events will obviously be very different from what they were in the movie because of what has just happened, so that doesn't really need explaining…oh, and I didn't forget about the bomb. Harry just isn't going to set it off now. He wants to hang around and talk with Sirius, and while he could do that if he escaped, he's assuming that a) Gordon will be too well protected to attempt that any time soon, and b) he can pull together a plan to escape any time, so it probably doesn't matter.

Oh, and yeah, he _did _actually give out the correct addresses (he didn't feel up to trickery with his godfather, and some part of the saving-people-thing reared its head from where it had been buried long ago to give out their real locations). Also, they have a bit more time (maybe) than they did in the film to rescue them. So who knows where _that's _gonna go? Well, maybe me…I may or may not continue this. I certainly like the idea, and it's fairly original (I think), but it all really comes down to if people like it or if I'm motivated enough to continue it.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: You know the drill, people. Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, and The Dark Knight belongs to Christopher Nolan/Warner Bros./whoever owns it, I'm not really sure.

* * *

**

The Joker really wished he had a watch or some other kind of timepiece. It was really annoying him to sit here and not know how long it had been since Gordon had left. As a rule, he was generally quite good at time, but something about this situation just made his internal clock go on the fritz. It just wouldn't work.

Finally, after a time span of anywhere from twenty minutes to several hours, Gordon reentered the interrogation room. The Joker allowed the front legs of his chair to hit the ground again and released himself from the forcibly relaxed pose he had been leaning back in for the past…well, however long it had been.

"They're both safe at home, completely unharmed. I made sure of it this time," Gordon said, sighing wearily and sitting down on the other side of the table.

"That's nice," the Joker said in a bored tone of voice. He drummed his fingers against the table, eyes fixed on his godfather's.

"You've killed people," Gordon said bluntly.

"I know," the Joker said, shrugging casually.

"You've lied, cheated, murdered, and stolen," the Commissioner said.

"I _know_," the Joker said, eyes flashing somewhere between pride and annoyance.

"I can't let you go," Gordon said. "You're a criminal, however the hell _that _happened, and you're going to be locked up for the rest of your life, if not immediately put on death row."

The Joker barked out a laugh. "Death doesn't scare _me_, of all people. You should know, you—" He suddenly broke off, brow furrowing. "No. No, you weren't there, were you? I always thought you just couldn't be found, but you weren't dead, were you…?"

"What are you talking about?" Gordon asked slowly, all the while hoping that his former godson wasn't going to suddenly start spouting off something connected to magic.

The Joker waved a hand as though shooing away something. "That is not something that should be discussed here, my dear Commissioner. Perhaps I shall regale you the story someday. I assure you, it is_ quite _the thrilling tale."

"Harry," Gordon started in a warning tone of voice.

"_Don't call me that_," the Joker hissed, eyes slitting in anger. "Your godson's _dead_, 'Gordon,' and he's not coming back!"

Gordon met his eyes with a measuring gaze, then nodded his head slightly. "Fine," he said heavily. "The Harry James Potter I _knew _would never have done these things."

"And the Sirius Orion Black _I _knew wouldn't be working with law enforcement," the Joker replied mockingly. "Seeing as how your past with officers has been less than stellar, eh, Snuffles?"

"That was a completely different situation and you know it," Gordon said stiffly. "You said a lot of people died. Who?"

The Joker stilled completely, face drawn tightly in a grimace of pain before he relaxed his expression and started tapping the table with his fingers again. "Well, one way to put it is that you're _definitely _the last Marauder now, Padfoot," he said.

Gordon bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Shit," he muttered. "Dammit. Remus is dead?"

"Mm," the Joker hummed. "So's the little rat, though. You'll be happy to know I'm the godfather of a Lupin now, though."

Gordon let out a slightly choked sound. "Remus had a _kid_? With _who_?"

"A certain pink-haired Auror named Nymphadora Tonks, which means Remus really was part of your family," the Joker grinned. Then he frowned very slightly. "I haven't seen Teddy in fourteen years. Andromeda's been taking care of him."

"And…" Gordon started out hesitantly. "Others?"

"Such as?" the Joker asked bitingly. "Tonks? Dead. Dumbledore? Dead. Mad-Eye? Dead. Cedric, Hermione, the Weasleys, the D.A., sixth years, seventh years, teachers and students alike? Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, _DEAD!_" he all but shrieked. "And _you!_"

He suddenly paused, quietly calming down.

"Why did you leave me?" the Joker asked quietly.

Gordon sighed, running fingers through his hair. "Harry, it's not that simple—"

"It's simple enough," the Joker said sharply, for the moment ignoring the use of his real name. "You _left_. You apparently could have come back, but you _left_."

"I had _amnesia!_" Gordon said, slightly louder than the man sitting across the table from him. "I had it for years! I couldn't remember anything past the day I woke up, and even _now _I know that there are pieces _missing _and I don't know how to get them back!"

"You _ABANDONED ME_!" the Joker shouted, standing up and shoving his chair back. "You come into my life after twelve years, you stick around for three, and then you _leave again!_ _Seventeen years_, Sirius! _Seventeen years _I thought you were _dead_, just like _everyone else_!"

"I know," Gordon said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I should have come back. When I got my memories back, I should have checked. Believe me, Harry, I tried to keep up, to figure out what was going on with less than half of my memories, but it was so difficult to pull them up – I couldn't even remember _you _that clearly, however hard I tried—"

"Well you should have tried _harder!_" the Joker yelled. He stomped away from the table, clenching and unclenching his fists, and running fingers through his hair.

Just then, the door to the interrogation room opened. Gordon quickly stood and turned to face the person who had come in.

"So he's the Joker?" Harvey Dent asked levelly, glaring at the green-haired man's back.

"Harvey, what are you doing here?" Gordon muttered, cautiously taking his eyes off his godson. "You should be safe at home, not wandering around the city—"

"It's hardly wandering if I came straight here, now is it?" the D.A. replied coolly, his gaze not wavering for a second.

A low chuckle came from the Joker, and it slowly grew into an all out laugh as he turned around. "Harvey, Harvey, Harvey _Dent_," he said cheerfully. He assessed the man in front of him and his grin widened. "That was fun," he said. "But I knew you weren't him. You don't have the same…presence, I suppose you could say. And you're too…light." He strolled casually closer, pulling his chair back in place, plopping down into it and sticking his feet onto the table.

Harvey shot a look at Gordon that vaguely translated to somewhere between, "Is this guy for real?" and "He's seriously messed up in the mind, isn't he?" Gordon just shrugged helplessly in response.

"What," Harvey asked, in a fairly calm voice considering the circumstances, "exactly, were you trying to accomplish?"

"With what?" the Joker drawled out. "You can't just ask such broad things. Do you mean _tonight_, in this _town_, or in _existing_?"

Harvey barely refrained from either twitching in annoyance or giving into the very strong temptation to punch this man.

"Any will do," he said, determined to get answers from the sick bastard.

"How much do you want to bet that this room is bugged by the Batman?" the Joker questioned conversationally, his emerald eyes roving around the room.

"That's not relevant to the questions being asked," Gordon said.

"Don't tell me you actually think he's left the room clean, Gordon," the Joker countered, smirking slightly. "I highly doubt that. C'mon, a few dollars for old time's sake—"

"Enough!" Harvey interrupted, though he was _definitely _interested in whatever the Joker was talking about. Jim Gordon's record had been clean when Harvey had looked at in during his work at IA, but now it looked as though he would have to go back through it. "Answer the questions being asked."

The Joker shrugged. "All right. But only because I honestly have nothing else to do…mustn't give out _secrets_ to just _anyone_, right, Padfoot?"

Gordon winced. Harvey tacked the sentence onto a new board compiled of things he would have to investigate about Gordon, however much he may like the new Commissioner, both as a man and a cop.

The Joker hummed to himself before dropping his feet from the table and leaning forward in an almost conspiratorial pose. "Tonight, I suppose you could say, was just a little…experiment? I don't _do _plans, as they seem to have a nasty habit of backfiring or just messing up terribly, but if I had gotten you lot to waste enough time here, then either _boom_, or yeah, your 'friends' would've had to choose. And even in the latter case, if they didn't move fast enough…" the Joker trailed off, lifting his eyebrows. "Well, I'm sure you could guess what would have happened, hm?"

He chuckled lowly. Harvey tensed at the reminder of exactly how close he and Rachel had brushed Death this night. Gordon just looked at the Joker with dismay and something like guilt in his eyes.

"In this _town_, you have a mob to bother, banks to rob, a giant business to possibly screw with at some later date, and a vigilante to duel with. Really, what more could you ask for? As for existence…" his gaze flicked over to Gordon. "I was marked down to have my life include or end in murder since the moment I was born. As that problem has already been resolved, I'm not quite sure how to answer this question."

Gordon closed his eyes. Obviously he had known of the prophecy before falling through the Veil, and retained some, if not all, knowledge of it now. The Joker was not pleased by this.

Harvey just blinked and then gave a hard stare to the man, who took it without a twitch. Yes, without a doubt there was _definitely _something screwy in his head there…

'_Oh, damn,' _the D.A. thought to himself. _'He better not get off by pleading insane. It would probably actually work.'_ Harvey also frowned at the existence remark. What kind of family would subject their child to such a thing?

"Harvey," Gordon said softly, snapping him from his thoughts. "It's late. You've been shot at, kidnapped, and almost blown up. You've got to be dead on your feet. Go home, rest, and let me take care of this here. You can come by again in the morning."

"Gordon—" Harvey immediately started to protest, but stopped under the level look he was receiving from the Commissioner. "Fine," he muttered angrily, though secretly he _was _looking forward to getting some sleep after the day he'd had. "Come with me. There are some things we need to talk about."

The Commissioner, who had already started moving back towards the table where the green-haired man sat, stopped, and then turned to follow Harvey out of the interrogation room.

Just before the door closed, the Joker called out mockingly, "Sweet dreams!"

* * *

A/N: As you can obviously see, I'm continuing this. And it only took 11 days to get the new chapter out! (And that was only partly sarcasm on my part! Yay!) Hopefully all the chapters will range from somewhere in between this length and longer, but not shorter. I was tempted to have Har-sorry, _the Joker_, start spouting off the Tale of the Three Brothers, but then I decided against it and inserted Gordon's line of hoping the Joker wouldn't go about talking of magic.

About the OOCness: they're all acting completely OOC, but in my defense it's really hard to combine two personalities like this, especially since I've been adding in a mixed background that definitely differs from canon in both works. Sorry if you don't like it, but _I _kinda like how they're all acting. However, that being said, I _will _most definitely take comments on how to make their characters more IC if you truly want me to.

Umm...that's really all I have to say? I'm sorry it's kinda short and there wasn't much...info gathering, connecting, Harvey!interrogation, etc. I'll work on it, kay?


	3. Chapter 3

"What do you need to say, Harvey?" Jim asked tiredly, looking at the blond man in front of him. _I really need to take my own advice and get some sleep_, he thought ruefully.

"It was Wuertz," Harvey said somewhat impatiently. "I didn't say anything on the way back – too concerned about Rachel – but it was Wuertz. I talked to Rachel, and she said it was Ramirez. You've got Maroni's men in your old office."

Jim leaned against the wall, shock and betrayal dully flooding his system. He ran fingers through his hair and released a slow, shaky breath.

"Dammit," he laughed finally. "You'd think I'd be used to this kind of thing—" The old temper from his teenage years raised its head and he whipped around to viciously kick the wall behind him. "Going to say 'I told you so'?" Gordon asked, leaning his head against the wall.

"I'm not the type to rub salt in wounds. You know that, Gordon."

"I don't know _what _to believe anymore!" Jim snapped at him, followed by another strangled laugh. "I don't _really _know anything true about you, me, the police, the mob, the Batman, the _Joker_—" He cut himself off.

"Did you get him to confess to anything else?" Harvey asked, trying to be at least somewhat gentle to Gordon.

"No straight answers, no," Gordon said heavily. "Why would he tell _me_ anything, anyway? He isn't disturbed in the slightest about the possibility of going to jail or getting the death sentence, he _can't _be intimidated, and he thinks _I _betrayed _him_."

Harvey's eyes narrowed. "How so?" he questioned cautiously, one hand carefully drifting toward his gun.

"What do you – right, you arrived just _after _that," Gordon said, still not turning around. "He's my godson, Harvey."

Harvey's eyes widened in shock, and his hand was now resting fully on his gun, prepared to draw it at a moment's notice. "Is that so?"

Gordon finally turned around, catching the odd note in Harvey's voice. His dark eyes focused on where Harvey's hand was gripping his gun, which was still in its holster on the D.A.'s waist. Gordon didn't look surprised, or even remotely threatened.

"I didn't know," the commissioner said brokenly. "I didn't know, and then he just comes out and says that _my cousin _did that to him, and I know that he was twisted into what he _hated _most, that if he was the boy I remembered from so long ago he'd _never _have done what he's done, and…Merlin, it's so messed up, isn't it?" He laughed for a third time, his entire body trembling.

"So he blamed you for the scars, because it was your family that did it?" Harvey asked slowly.

"We just happen to share the same damned blood – Bellatrix is no family of _mine_!" Gordon snarled at him, fury twisting his face before he made an effort to blank it, and said with a tinge of sadness, "He hates me because I disappeared from his life for reasons out of my control and he thought that I died. I woke up here with nothing but the clothes on my back and amnesia – I couldn't even remember my name!"

"What about his parents?" Harvey asked. "Surely they were there for him?"

Gordon snorted. "That'd be a bit hard for them to do," he said bitingly. "Seeing as they died – no, were murdered – when he was one."

"_Murdered_?" Harvey bit out sharply.

Gordon glanced around. "I'm not talking about this out here, Harvey. If we're going to do this, we're doing it in my office."

Harvey only hesitated for the briefest of seconds before nodding. "Lead the way," he said.

Unfortunately, as they were trying to pass through the bullpen, they were stopped by a nervous looking young police officer.

"Um, Mr. Commissioner, sir?" he asked hesitantly.

Jim smiled gently at him. "Just call me Gordon," he said simply. "What's wrong?"

"One of the prisoners, from earlier," the officer said, fidgeting. "He – the medics had to take him to the hospital to have surgery. There was some sort of, uh, bomb…sewn into his stomach, set to remote activate through a cell phone. It didn't activate, thankfully, but everything happened while you were gone and I didn't see you coming in so I couldn't tell you straight away—"

"That's fine," a slightly pale Gordon said, raising a hand and getting the officer to stop the flow of words. "Thank you for informing me. I'll be in my office if anyone needs me or something comes up."

The officer nodded and strode away from the two.

"Bloody hell," Gordon said quietly, in a thick British accent that Harvey hadn't heard before.

'_Who are you, really?'_ the D.A. wondered, before they continued to the commissioner's office.

* * *

Bruce frowned at the monitors in front of him as he replayed the talks between the Joker and Gordon, and the conversation between Harvey and Gordon out in the hall. He had twitched slightly when the Joker wanted to bet on whether he had placed cameras in the interrogation rooms or not; it disturbed him slightly that the madman was straight on the mark. He didn't feel bad about doing it in the first place, though.

Two of the computers next to him were running searches on the names 'Harry James Potter' and 'Sirius Orion Black' while he continued to analyze the recordings and monitor the live feed, which so far merely consisted of the Joker drumming his fingers on the table, glancing idly around the room, and humming an annoying song.

Bruce felt a headache growing.

* * *

"This isn't your office anymore, you know," Harvey said as they walked into said room.

"Until I move into Loeb's old room, it is," Gordon retorted, settling himself down behind his desk wearily. He rubbed his hands tiredly over his face, looking more exhausted than Harvey had ever seen him.

"Gordon…" Harvey said.

"I know," he replied, the heels of his hands still pressed against his eyes. "I know." He lifted his hands, folded them formally on the table, and looked Harvey straight in the eyes. "There are some parts of it I can't tell you, though."

"Why not?"

Gordon smirked bitterly. "Amnesia, remember?" he said, tapping his temple with one finger. "And it's confidential – I tell you and I'm breaking _major _laws."

Harvey frowned. "Are you from America originally?" he asked, leaning forward.

"Don't worry, I'm legally a citizen. However, I was born in Great Britain. I lived there for my childhood and several adult years."

The D.A. leaned back, mollified. That was _one _questioned answered truthfully, at least. Though the matter of classified information was certainly something that was intriguing…something to worry about?

"You may or may not have heard what was happening years ago in England. Probably _not._" Gordon said. "In the late 70s, a self-styled lord tried to take over a smaller community living in England, after which he would move to take over the Mug — the Ministry. I was…fighting against him, as were Harry's parents and many others."

"The government didn't step in?" Harvey asked doubtfully.

"They did," Gordon said. _Just not the government you're thinking of. Muggles wouldn't have been much use in a war between wizards. _"James – Harry's father – was a trained officer. So was I." Gordon paused for a moment before visibly collecting himself and carrying on. "In 1980, James and Lily had Harry. In '81, Voldemort – the self-styled lord – attacked them, k-killed James and Lily, and—" Gordon's brow furrowed. He rubbed at his temples. "I can't – he, he left Harry alive except for the scar, and he disappeared for years, but I don't – I can't remember _why_—"

"You weren't lying about the amnesia," Harvey murmured.

Gordon glared at him aggressively. "I may have kept some things back to avoid breaking laws, but I'm _not _going to lie about the past of a psychopath, even if he _was _my godson once! I've had enough of lies and corruption in police forces!"

Harvey raised his hands somewhat apologetically, conceding the point, before questioning cautiously, "Force**s**, plural?"

Expressions flickered across Gordon's face quicker than Harvey could read them before a blank one settled on Gordon's face. "Gotham isn't exclusive to corruption," he said evenly. "There were plenty of traitors within the government I worked for." His face twisted. "One of our trusted friends sold out James and Lily's location to Voldemort, when we made the mistake of having him be the one to know where they were hiding with Harry."

"Why were they in hiding?" Harvey asked.

"Because Voldemort wanted to kill them," Gordon said frankly. "And you don't take a child out into a war zone." _Especially the child that was prophesied to be the only one that could stop the aforementioned Dark Lord._

"Right," Harvey said. A beat of silence, then, "Why did he want to kill them?"

Gordon sighed. "Because we were in a – well, I suppose you wouldn't call it a war; that implies that it was large-scale. Regardless, James and Lily were some of the strongest fighters on our side. Wouldn't you want to finally end the lives of people who had avoided death from you three times already?"

_Born to those who have thrice defied him…_

"I'm not into the revenge business much, myself," Harvey said.

"That makes one of us," Gordon snorted. He glanced at Harvey. "Before I continue, I just want to say that I was cleared of all charges. I know that much, at least."

Harvey felt a sinking sensation but motioned for the Commissioner to continue.

"I went after our _dear _friend," Gordon said, eyes dark with malice. He clenched one fist. "Little Peter Pettigrew, who sold out his friends to save his own skin. When I caught up with him, he shouted to the streets that _I _gave them away, that _I _betrayed my best friend to death, and detonated a bomb that blew up the street. It was near him, so when he cut off his finger, everyone assumed that that was all that was left, and I had blown him to smithereens. Thirteen civilians were killed."

"My God," Harvey said softly.

"I was thrown into prison for twelve years for a crime I didn't commit," Gordon said, even more quietly. "Until I broke out and chased him down. He got away again, the bastard, and I fled."

"From the law," Harvey said pointedly, though not with much feeling.

"For a crime I didn't commit," Gordon repeated, eyes narrowed as he carefully scrutinized how Harvey was taking everything, and how many of the Commissioner's very carefully spun (though mostly true) lies the blond believed. "I stayed hidden for a few years, but then there was a skirmish and I was believed to be dead. I woke up in Gotham, in a hospital. Went into the police force, eventually met Barbara, and started a family. Then Batman showed up…and then Har – the Joker."

Harvey leaned back in his chair, examining Gordon.

Gordon matched him look for look.

"You honestly had no idea who he was before today? You weren't helping him?" the D.A. finally asked.

A pained look flitted onto Gordon's face before he could stop it. "I didn't know, and I wasn't helping him."

Silence filled the office for long moments.

* * *

Miles away, Bruce was pulled from watching and interpreting the videos playing on his monitors by a cheerful ping from one of the computers in the room.

It had found information on Sirius Black.

Very unfortunately, Bruce had never gotten around to bugging Gordon's office, and he had _no _idea what he had just fallen into.

* * *

**A/N: **Oh Merlin, guys, I'm really sorry for having you wait this long. I wrote out half this chapter before somewhat losing interest in it. Thankfully for you, I just finished watching the end of the Dark Knight (end of Interrogation Scene on) again, and thus was inspired (through guilt) to finish this chapter. I'M SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG.

Please point out any mistakes (spelling, grammar, etc). I'm sure they're there.


End file.
